06:08 · cold · the financial belt
the city is exhaling. it does this often. somewhere below, hot water is being moved from a place that needs it less to a place that needs it more, and the difference shows itself as a column of pale weather rising into the actual weather.
a runner pushes through it without slowing. for a second they are inside the breath of the city, and the city is inside theirs. then they are out the other side, and the column resumes its slow vertical work, indifferent to passage.
field note: the steam is whiter against the dark stone than against the sky. no idea why this should feel important.
traffic light · pavement · empty square · fog